A Psalm for the Decades
by YourOnlyBelle
Summary: A character examination of Derek Shepherd and his family. A mother must watch her child grow, adapt, and become someone she can be proud of.
1. Fall in New York

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters. They all live in Shonda Rhimes' head, and occasionally, in mine. She can take them back though, they are kind of annoying.

Author's Note: After recent revelations on the show, I have decided to edit the first chapter. Enjoy!

Fall in New York is generally considered a reprieve; a reprieve from the summer heat that forces too many to stand on the streets, fanning themselves and drinking ice water, and a reprieve from the cold wind and snow that will blow through the area sometime in November. It is a season of beauty, of children going back to school, of parents finally breathing a sigh of relief, and of newly minted high school graduates to finally step foot into college. Carolyn Maloney, however, was standing in a wedding dress on October 3, 1963, the leaves outside a rich golden color instead of the green she loved so much during the summer.

It was a month before President Kennedy, the young Irish Catholic president that Carolyn found herself madly in love with, would be assassinated in Dallas. A month before she and her husband would stare at the TV in horror, clasping hands tightly. She was far too young to be aware of the war in Vietnam brewing that would soon change her life. The sixties would come to be known as a time of change in the country, in the city of New York, and yet all Carolyn was aware of was the way her dress lay against her skin, of how bare her finger felt without her diamond engagement ring as it waited for the heavy weight of the yellow gold Michael Christopher Shepherd would place on her hand.

Her mother and eldest sister were still arguing over the placement of the veil, still wondering what had possessed Carolyn to demand yellow and pink roses for today. Her two other sisters were sitting delicately on the settee, laughing over the pale pink of their dresses. Colleen's glasses were long-gone, forgotten on this day, when she wanted to look her very best for Michael's friends and brother. Evelyn and Cara simply laughed joyously at the rich fabric surrounding them. "Carolyn, dear," her mother, Kathleen, murmured as she reached to adjust the veil on her head, "you have never looked more exquisite."

"Thank you, Mother," Carolyn blushed madly. "Michael will like it? You do think he'll like it?"

"He won't be able to take his eyes off of you, Carolyn," Cara giggled.

"Or his hands," Colleen teased.

"Colleen!" Kathleen gasped. "Must you be so crude?"

"It's true, Mother. Michael has wanted Carolyn since the moment he met her."

"That does not mean a young lady needs to discuss such topics," Kathleen shook her head. "And to think you'll be gracing a church in a few moments."

"Sorry, Mother," Colleen murmured and Carolyn turned to smile slightly at her older sister. It was the truth, and Carolyn would never deny the passion that overtook her whenever she saw Michael Shepherd. Despite his nine years advantage over her, and the number of women he dated before her, he always looked at her as if she were the most precious jewel he had ever had the luck to hold and observe. He was handsome, and her friends all murmured enviously over her relationship with the tall, dark-haired Irish store clerk who had crashed into her car and then had managed to ask her out for a date while apologizing deeply. His hands had roamed over her body, and though she had known he was checking for injuries, she had been awed by the sudden rush of heat and emotions that lingered after his calm touches.

Here they were now, hardly six months later, and she stood in a dress, her hands calm as she imagined Michael in his tuxedo, waiting for her. Her legs did not shake, though she had practiced the graceful fall she would perform when Michael carried her over the threshold of their new house, the home that would be theirs, the home that would protect their children one day, the house in which they would grow old. Colleen had practiced with her again and again, until finally, she had felt she could be the perfect wife from the moment they stepped foot into their home. Michael would not let her see it yet, but she had found long ago that she trusted him and loved him unconditionally, and he seemed to feel the same.

She was getting married today. Just six days after her eighteenth birthday, and she was marrying the only man she had ever loved, the only man she could imagine herself loving. The dress was perfect, the flowers magnificent, and all Carolyn Maloney cared about today was becoming Carolyn Sophia Shepherd. She had no desire to go to college, no desire at all to follow the small amount of friends traipsing off to Sarah Lawrence. She had found the man she wanted, she had discovered the life she craved, and she couldn't imagine her wishes ever changing, her life ever swaying from the perfection of this very moment.

She and Michael had every moment planned. He was going to own a store, a store that would one day rival Macy's, and she would be his wife, the mother of his children. Michael came from a large family, six sisters, a brother, and himself, and he wanted a family just as large as his own. She had no complaints, of course, she wanted to start their family as soon as possible. They weren't going on any sort of honeymoon, he didn't have the time, and she supposed starting their family just after their marriage was as good as any drive to Niagara Falls.

"Is the bride ready?" her father boomed in the voice of his that so often sent small children and puppies scattering, before they realized he was a gentle soul, straight from the shores of Ireland. Joseph Maloney had come to this country by way of ship in 1929, when he was still a young boy, and had married her mother just before the world war had taken over their lives. He still had the tilt of language from the old country, and he often talked wistfully of going back to the isle. Today, he stood before her, his dark hair already beginning to gray, but his body still menacing as he smiled at her.

"Do I look pretty, Father?" she smiled at him.

"Pretty?" he laughed as he took a step forward. "No daughter of mine is just pretty. My dear girl, you are as breathtaking as the isle of Erin itself."

"Daddy," Carolyn giggled as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You are lovely, dearheart," he whispered. "And I've warned the lad…"

"Oh, Daddy, no," she shook her head. "He's a good man."

"That lad loves you," Joseph said firmly, pressing a kiss to each cheek. "He will take good care of my girl."

"I know, Daddy," she breathed as her father took a step back, surveying the room.

"And the rest of my girls," he grinned widely, "lovely as the day is long. How can a man keep his daughters in the house when they are all so beautiful?"

"Daddy, I'm too young to get married," Cara giggled as she ran her hands over the pale pink silk.

"Oh, that you are, my sunshine," he smiled. "But now, your sister must get married. Run along now."

"I'm ready, Father," Carolyn breathed as she made her way impatiently to the door. "He is there, right? Michael is here?"

"Of course, he's here," Joseph laughed. "Where else would the boy be?"

"He's hardly a boy, Joseph," Kathleen shook her head. "Colleen, put your glasses back on. Carolyn, take your father's arm."

"Your tone, Kathleen," Joseph's voice dropped several octaves as he stared hard at his wife and then took Carolyn's arm. Still, her body was not shaking. She expected it to shake, she expected to be afraid, but as her mother followed them demurely, her head ducked down before Michael's brother, Derek, swept in to take her arm and lead her into the church. It was time. This was the moment she would see Michael, and he would take her as his wife. "Are you sure you're ready, dear girl?"

"I'm ready, Father," she echoed her earlier statement as the church doors swung open. Michael stood, still facing the altar and then he turned ever so slightly. His dark curls were a wild mess on his head, a mess she had taken to calling the curse of the Irish, but already, she could see his deep blue eyes sparkling the closer she became to him. "Michael."

"Carolyn," he chuckled softly and then immediately took her hand before shaking her father's hand. "You are exquisite."

"Thank you," she breathed though she fell silent as he squeezed her hand and then moved to kneel at the altar. The ceremony began and though she had always dreamed of this very moment as a young girl, her heart was instead pounding in her ears as she listened to Father O'Connor. She was marrying Michael Christopher Shepherd, and though the world was changing at a disturbingly rapid pace, although she was only eighteen, although the leaves were golden instead of the green she had always dreamed of, Carolyn Sophia Maloney was more than happy, more than pleased to take the man next to her as her husband, as the man she would love for the rest of her life, as the father to her future children. She was more than ready to become Carolyn Sophia Shepherd.


	2. Kathleen Amelia Shepherd

**Disclaimer: I still don't own these characters. They belong to Shonda, I'm just playing with them and will return them accordingly.**

**Author's Note: Chapter One was edited and changed due to recent revelations on the show, please read before reading this one.**

Winter came to New York that year almost too quickly. The country still lay in shock over the death of their fallen leader, still held their breaths in fear over Cuba and the Soviet Union. But still, the seasons changed well before the psyche of the nation, and Carolyn started to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, college may have been better than the cold home she and her husband shared on Long Island. She had discovered it was a gift from his parents, not at all something within their price range, and Carolyn tried to keep her thoughts to herself whenever Mrs. Shepherd made comments.

Still, she was young. As her friends came home for the holidays, Carolyn wanted nothing more than to grab her skates and enjoy a cold day in Central Park, sipping hot cocoa with her old schoolmates. But those days were long gone, and she no longer ran to window shop in the city, or to giggle over the boys who threw snowballs at each other, or shoved ice down their backs. A year earlier, Carolyn had been Carolyn Maloney, seventeen years old and still so wildly in love with her life. Now, she was Carolyn Shepherd, eighteen years old and alone in her cold home.

She wasn't unhappy. She tried her hardest to remind herself of that fact when she cooked a supper that would be put into the refrigerator hours after it had sat in the oven, waiting for Michael to come home. She tried to remember that she loved Michael when he came home from the store at nearly midnight and threw his clothes on the floor before crawling into bed with her, exhausted and not at all interested in conversation. She tried to remember that this had been what she wanted when she had agreed to marry him. Instead, she often found herself sitting on the icy doorstep, tapping her foot angrily at the thought of being left alone.

But Carolyn knew well enough not to mention any of this to Michael. The few times she had called her mother in tears had led to Kathleen insisting that she grow up and be Michael's wife. She had never thought to ask her mother if she were ever lonely, and she wasn't sure her mother would answer truthfully. Her mother was a wife and mother. Carolyn had often heard the fights between her parents, the words "hard work" falling out of her mother's mouth like hard, sharp gravel. But Carolyn was a wife. And sometimes, the only thing that felt like hard work was being alone in their home well after dark and waiting for Michael to come through the door.

It was a cold Sunday morning in January when Carolyn found herself angrier than usual. She attended church with her parents and sisters, fuming all during Mass. Her mother and father then invited her to Sunday dinner, and instead of insisting, as she had for nearly three months now, that she had to be home for Sunday dinner with her husband, she went to her mother's house and curled up in her old bedroom, anger and exhaustion searing through her.

Michael was working, of course. He seemed to only work, and while she understood why, she didn't very much like that her husband, her attentive, loving husband never seemed to be home. So she fumed. All during dinner, she fumed, silently contemplating staying home with her parents, and then going ice skating in Central Park, or window shopping at Macy's. She contemplated running off to Europe, or Hollywood, and changing her persona completely. The contemplating and the anger left her queasy, and her mother and father watched her worriedly when she left the house with an empty stomach.

This was 1964. Women had careers, women could vote and go to school, and they didn't have to get married anymore. She had read the books, she could quote by heart The Feminine Mystique and other texts about women's freedom to behave as they wanted. And yet, here Carolyn Shepherd was, a housewife without a husband in her home. A woman who spent her days alone while her husband worked at a store and then came home to talk about his dreams and aspirations. Never once did he ask how her day was, never once did he ask her how the laundry had gone. And she knew she shouldn't be angry with him, she knew that, but on January 19, 1964, Carolyn was angry.

She came home to find him sitting in his usual spot, his dark curly head bent over books on the table as he read. "There's my girl," he grinned, looking up quickly. "Did you spend Sunday with your parents?"

"Yes," she nodded, her stomach doing twists and turns as she stood before him.

"Good. It's high time you spent some time with your mother and sisters," he nodded, reaching for her. She quickly took a step back, trying to ignore the sudden dizziness that overtook her. "Carolyn?"

"I don't like this," she pouted. "I don't like…the house. The house is cold. And empty. But most of all, it's cold all the time and it smells awful. And I hate when your mother comes in the middle of the day, to check on me. I know how to take care of a home. I know how to clean and cook and take care of a home. I know how to do all of that, and yet, she's always here. She's here more than you are. And this is supposed to be our home. Our first home."

"Carolyn," he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"I know I'm supposed to be a good housewife," she murmured. "I know that, Michael, but I don't like this. I'm…I'm bored. And alone. And you're at work, and when you come home, it's as if you don't want to see me. I hate this."

"Am I neglecting you, pretty girl?" Michael smiled softly as he stood. "Is that why you would barely look at me this morning? Am I neglecting my wife?"

"I didn't say that."

"Of course not," he murmured. "I'll take tomorrow from the store, fix the heater, and we can spend some time together."

"I don't want you to take a day from the store," she groaned. "I want…I don't know what I want."

"Oh, Carolyn," he breathed, shaking his head slightly. "It will be better when I have my own store. All of this will be better when I work for myself, and you can come work for me whenever you want." He grabbed her by the waist and brought her close to him, and she shook her head, turning away from him as he tried to kiss her. "Oh you are mad," he laughed softly.

"I can't stand you."

"You love me. Even if I am a horrible, neglectful husband who leaves his wife to freeze."

"I want to go ice skating!" she blurted suddenly as her stomach suddenly contorted. "I want to go to Macy's and then go ice skating with my friends. I want to do something, Michael."

"Then do something," he smiled widely. "Go shopping. Go ice skating. Have a hot chocolate."

"You'd…you'd let me?"

"Let you?" Michael laughed. "I wasn't aware I was allowed to let you do anything. My Carolyn would have laughed in my face and then run off to the skating rink. I'm not trying to hold you prisoner in this godforsaken house, Carolyn."

"But you're never home."

"Then please feel free to never be at home neither," Michael smiled. "We'll meet at the end of the day and discuss our adventures."

"I hate this house," she breathed, not meeting his eyes, though already she was itching to join her friends.

"We'll get a new one," he promised. "Both of us will look in a few years for a new house."

"All right," she breathed, suddenly exhausted. Her mouth was dry and her head was spinning and Michael seemed to watch her closely, concern etched onto his features.

"Carolyn?" he sighed, his hand finding its way to her back.

"I don't feel well," she admitted as the anger drained from her, replaced by the exhaustion she had felt at her childhood home, and the gnawing uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"No, and you don't look well at all," he murmured, lifting her effortlessly. He carried her carefully up the stairs and then put her gently underneath the blankets before crawling in next to her. His strong arms pulled her up to him and she breathed in deeply, trying to calm her stomach. He rubbed her back until she fell asleep, managing to stay asleep until nearly two thirty when she suddenly jumped out of the warm bed she shared with the man she loved and emptied the contents of her stomach.

On July 18, 1964, Carolyn woke in immense pain to see her husband leaning over her bed, a large smile on his lips. "I'm sorry," she breathed.

"Sorry?" he raised an eyebrow.

"It's not a boy," she told him softly, looking around the room for her baby, her darling little girl she had yet to hold.

"Yes, I know that," Michael laughed, running his hand over her hair. "I never wanted a boy."

"You did!" she gasped.

"Perhaps," he shrugged and then leaned to kiss her. "She's incredible, Carolyn."

"And she's all right? Where is she?"

"In the nursery with the other babies. And the prettiest girl out of the bunch. She looks exactly like you."

She drifted off then and woke again, hours later, this time to the sound of an infant's soft cry and her husband's voice , with a slight panic to it. "Give her to me," Carolyn ordered her husband.

"She's perfectly fine with her daddy," Michael shrugged. "We were just discussing our plans to get her a baby brother. She agrees wholeheartedly we should start working on that as soon as you feel better."

"I'm sure she does," she rolled her eyes, watching her husband hold their tiny daughter. "She doesn't have a name."

"Doesn't she?" he smirked.

"What?"

"I suppose I have an introduction to make," he sat down on the edge of her bed, moving the blanket off the small baby's cheek. "Carolyn, I'd like you to meet Kathleen Amelia Shepherd."

"After my mother?" Carolyn breathed.

"And my grandmother."

"All right," she murmured, resting her finger against the chubby cheek. "Shouldn't you be at the store?"

"Later," Michael breathed, placing the baby in her arms before kissing her softly. She looked up at him and then looked down at her baby, at Kathleen Amelia Shepherd, and realized she no longer felt alone, at all.


	3. Nancy Carolyn Shepherd

By the spring of 1966, when the country was in the midst of changes Carolyn and Michael couldn't quite believe, Carolyn Shepherd no longer wondered if her life would be better at Sarah Lawrence with her friends. She no longer ached to go ice skating or window shopping. All of her thoughts were focused solely on the little girl who was now walking and talking. Even on days when the baby inside her kicked her insides hard and left her exhausted, she hardly ever worried about anything but Kathleen.

It had been just three months after Kathleen's first birthday when she had discovered she was pregnant again. She hadn't wanted to tell Michael at first though, despite the fact that her husband was an incredible father. Though he had so wanted a boy, he adored Kathleen. He had long ago started calling the baby Kath, and the name was the only thing to which the girl would reply. All the same, Michael was busy at the store; working as much as he could keep their young family afloat. She had been terrified to tell him they would have another baby, but he was ecstatic. Already he had claimed the baby was a boy, and he told everyone he could about Michael Christopher, Jr.

Carolyn wasn't sure she wanted a little boy. The sixth year of the decade was hardly the time for boys; the war in Vietnam was no longer the talk of politicians but the fear that gripped an entire country. Michael's brother, Derek, the youngest Shepherd, was currently considering volunteering as more and more of his friends were drafted to serve. Michael was already starting to pray every Sunday for his brother and Carolyn simply couldn't imagine bringing a boy into this world where boys, young boys, were forced to fight in a country so far from their mothers.

Still, she was hardly concerned with the world outside her tiny little home. Kathleen was running around, learning the names of everything in the house. Her daughter was beautiful with the dark curls of her father, but Carolyn saw little else of her husband in their daughter. Except, of course, Michael's laughter. "Mama!" Kathleen laughed just two days before Easter as Carolyn dyed eggs for the yearly Easter egg hunt at the church.

"Yes, Kath?" Carolyn smiled at her nearly two-year-old baby girl.

"Kath has baby!" the toddler held up her new baby doll that Grandma Maloney had given her.

"Yes, dear, you have a baby. What is your baby doing?"

"Kath's baby eat mum-mum."

"Oh, of course," Carolyn laughed as she rubbed her large belly.

"Eat mum-mum cookie!"

"Well, who gave her a cookie before supper?"

"Daddy!" Kath shouted.

"Daddy's not home, sweetheart," Carolyn laughed.

"He isn't?" Michael's voice made her jump slightly.

"Michael!"

"Hello, pretty girl," he smiled, kissing her lips quickly.

"You're home so early," she breathed.

"Couldn't wait to see my girls," he smiled, turning to their baby, who watched him with her sparkling brown eyes. "Hello, Kath!" he laughed as the toddler squealed. "How's my other pretty girl?"

"Daddy," Kath reached her arms up. "Daddy, Kath want up."

"I do believe there's a magic word Kath is forgetting," Michael mock frowned at their daughter.

"Please!"

"Of course," Michael lifted her to his hip, Kath smiling widely as she smothered his face with tiny kisses. "I heard you sharing our secret with Mama."

"Kath want cookie, Daddy!"

"Yes, yes, later, Kath," he laughed, winking at Carolyn.

"I do appreciate the cookies, Michael," Carolyn sighed as she turned back to her eggs.

"You should be sitting, pretty girl. You look awful."

"I'm perfectly all right," she shook her head. "Why are you home so early?"

"Mother is ill."

"What?" Carolyn gasped as she turned to him.

"Mother is ill," he repeated softly, rubbing Kath's back.

"A cold or…"

"They're not quite sure," Michael sighed. "Derek and Emma came to tell me today. It appears the pain in her stomach has become much worse."

"I'm sure she'll be just fine."

"Emma doesn't believe she and Father should host Easter supper."

"Of course not," Carolyn nodded. "Will Emma or Bridget be hosting this year?"

"Neither."

"Sarah?"

"No."

"Michael," Carolyn turned to her husband.

"You did say Kath would enjoy more people in the home."

"I meant a younger brother or sister, not your family."

"Carolyn, please. Mother would appreciate it."

"Nancy Shepherd has never appreciated me."

"My mother adores you," Michael laughed and then kissed her nose. "My lovely girl. What did I ever do to deserve a girl like you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Michael," Carolyn sighed, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. He smiled brightly as their baby moved inside her and she stood there, laughing when Kath managed to flip in Michael's arms to feel their baby. "You really want me to host the Easter supper?"

"If you're up for it," Michael nodded. "Emma understands if with the baby…"

"The house is barely big enough for us, Michael."

"It will just be for supper," Michael grinned. "Please, Carolyn?"

Carolyn nodded as she sighed, turning back to her eggs. "Just don't be surprised if your mother brings about the birth of your daughter."

"Son," Michael laughed, kissing her cheek. "You'll enjoy it, Carolyn. It will prepare you for when our children have children."

"Hopefully we'll have a bigger house by then," she shook her head before leaning back into his strong arms. His shirt was dirty, she could smell the sweat from his day, but he wrapped his free arm around her, resting his hand on her stomach. It hadn't even been three years since their marriage and yet somehow, she had already learned every mark, every vein, every rough callus. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Carolyn Shepherd," he breathed into her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck before taking a step back. "And now, I have to get my other pretty girl a cookie. How does that sound, Kath?"

"Kath wants cookie, Daddy!" Kath giggled loudly, smothering his face with more kisses. Carolyn smiled as her husband swung their baby girl into the air, his laughter ringing throughout the entire kitchen. She should probably kill her husband for springing this on her. She had never wanted to host any sort of dinner for the large Shepherd family, but here she was, just two days before Easter. She realized she should be upset with her husband, but she couldn't help but enjoy his laughter, his laughter that echoed so beautifully from their little girl as his eyes met hers, followed quickly by a loving wink.

Carolyn Sophia Shepherd had spent all of her time during mass praying for a successful outcome. She had been up all night, much to Michael's vexation, cooking and cleaning and trying to make their small house as neat as possible. Nancy Shepherd had spent most of their short marriage staring down her nose at their home, at the way Carolyn kept house. She wasn't going to give the woman a reason today to complain. Everything would be perfect, of that she was sure, and she hoped God was as sure.

Michael watched her in the kitchen, a frown on his face and she ignored her husband. The baby felt heavy in her stomach, and seemed to move more than usual, but she wasn't going to worry about that today. Nancy was going to be here any moment with Christopher and the rest of the large Shepherd family, and she was simply going to find some way to survive today. She turned from the oven and groaned when she saw Kathleen trying to reach for a plate of colored eggs. "Oh, no, Kathleen," she rushed over to her daughter, who was dressed in a little Easter dress. "We don't touch today."

"Mama!" Kathleen frowned, looking up at her. "Kath want egg!"

"Come here, Kath," Michael sighed as he bent down to their daughter, picking her up quickly before leaning over to Carolyn. "Slow down. My son still has a bit to go in there."

"I'm perfectly fine, Michael," Carolyn shook her head and then groaned as the front door opened. "Of course they wouldn't knock."

"Derek James Shepherd!" Nancy's harsh voice called throughout the house just as the youngest Shepherd stomped into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mike," he grinned, slapping Michael on the back. "Carolyn, you look great."

"You're a liar, Derek Shepherd," Carolyn laughed, kissing his cheek. He was just a year older than her, a laughing boy with one blue eye, the other a deep hazel. "What did you do to your poor mother?"

"Nancy Shepherd has never been a poor anything," Derek laughed. "Stop looking at me like that, Mike. I know she's sick, and I know it's Easter."

"So don't even bring it up today, Derek," Michael said firmly. "Or did you already?"

"Bring what up?" Carolyn frowned.

"Nothing," Derek shrugged, wrapping an arm around her expanded waist. "Is that my namesake in there?"

"Why would we ever name a child after you?" Michael laughed. "It's my namesake."

"It's a girl," Carolyn sighed, rubbing her belly as the baby kicked insistently.

"Derek James," Nancy came into the kitchen, looking much gaunter than Carolyn remembered. "You cannot drop a bombshell and just walk away."

"Interesting choice of words, Mother," Derek grinned.

"Michael," Nancy turned, "your father is in the other room, I'm sure he would like to watch the television."

"Of course, Mother," Michael nodded, holding Kathleen close as he walked out of the kitchen. Carolyn turned back to the stove, rubbing her stomach as Derek stared defiantly at his mother.

"Mother, we don't have to talk about this now," Derek said firmly. "And we're not talking about it anymore. I'm going to enlist."

"Have you lost your mind, Derek?" Nancy demanded. "Do you have any idea what happens during wartime? You're a student, you may not even be drafted."

"You're enlisting, Derek?" Carolyn breathed, turning to her brother-in-law.

"I'm finished with school in a year," Derek nodded. "If I'm not drafted, I'll enlist."

"Your father and I have already discussed this with you," Nancy shook her head.

"Dad fought," Derek pointed out. "Dad was injured in the Pacific."

"That was different, Derek."

"It wasn't. I want to fight in Vietnam, and that's final, Mother." He turned and walked towards Michael's laughter and Carolyn stared down at the pot roast in front of her, her hands shaking. Nancy still stood behind her, her breath heavy and spent, and Carolyn just continued staring at the pot roast. Derek wanted to enlist. He wanted to fight in Vietnam, he wanted to fight Communism. She assumed it was...commendable, but in that moment, she was mostly sure the news would break the Shepherd family.

"I hope you pray every day that child is a girl, Carolyn."

"I'm sorry?" Carolyn turned to her mother-in-law.

"It would be awful to bring a boy into this world right now," Nancy murmured as she fell into a chair, her hand gripping her stomach.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Shepherd?" Carolyn frowned.

"Hardly," Nancy breathed. "My dear boy wants to fight in a war. He's a boy. He's just a boy."

"I know."

"I do like to believe he would come back," Nancy murmured. "But what would happen if he didn't? Christopher lost so many of his friends in the War."

"I don't know, Mrs. Shepherd," Carolyn shook her head slowly, her hand moving over her stomach.

"I just don't think this family could stand to lose both of us."

"Mrs. Shepherd?"

"It's no secret, Carolyn. My girls have their husbands. My Michael has you, thank goodness. But Christopher and Derek have no one but each other. I just can't imagine my son leaving his father for a war, when his wife is barely in the ground." Carolyn stared at her mother-in-law, her mouth falling open as the baby kicked violently within her. She had never liked Nancy Shepherd, had always just assumed the woman didn't like her in return. But as she looked at her husband's mother, as she watched her groan softly, her heart squeezed. Nancy Shepherd was dying. Michael's mother was dying. She turned carefully back to her pot roast, suddenly wishing she could say something to change this, suddenly wishing she had prayed for something else at Mass that morning.

On May 8, 1966, Carolyn found herself in the hospital yet again, waiting patiently for the nurses to hand her the tiny baby girl she had given birth to hours before. Michael was not in the room this time. She needed her husband, needed him badly, but he was at his childhood home, sitting with his father, who hadn't stopped drinking for two weeks now. She had gone into labor while helping him to clean the older man up, and he had come with her, had paced outside her room, and had masked his disappointment when the doctors announced she had had another baby girl. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her wedding ring before taking a deep breath and turning to her side.

Nancy Shepherd had died two weeks earlier, just a week after the Easter holiday. She had been in pain for that last week, and no one had expected her to survive. The pain in her stomach had increased by the second, and even Derek had stopped mentioning his desire to enlist in the war. When she had passed, Michael had taken charge of all of the arrangements, and now she was alone in her hospital bed, desperately missing her husband and Kath.

The door opened quickly and she didn't bother to turn over, didn't bother to look at the nurse who was coming in. "Well, " Michael's voice whispered, "I suppose Mama is sleeping right now, little one. We'll have to come back later."

"Michael?" Carolyn breathed, turning to look at her husband.

"There's my pretty girl," he breathed, sitting down carefully on her bed, a bundle of blankets in his arms.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

"I had more important things to tend to here," he said softly. "Would you like to meet our daughter?"

"I…I'm sorry," Carolyn yawned. "You wanted a boy so badly."

"Stop saying that, she'll hear you," Michael laughed. "Nancy Carolyn Shepherd will hear you."

"Nancy?" Carolyn looked down at her baby girl.

"Nancy Carolyn Shepherd."

"Oh," she breathed and then nodded, reaching for her baby and then cuddling her tightly. Nancy had been wrong. There was plenty left here for her family, even in her absence.


	4. Vietnam

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. I mean, Ma's pretty amazing and I WISH I owned her, but alas, I do not.

The New Year began as a hopeful time for the small Shepherd family. Michael had sworn 1967 would be the year their lives would come together. He swore Carolyn would have a new house, a house big enough for their two growing girls, a house she could call her very own. He believed 1967 would be the year the country would finally settle down, and he could move forward with his plans to open a store. He talked about it often enough, and Carolyn wanted desperately to believe him. Slowly, the United States was becoming a terrifying place to live, and most especially New York. Carolyn had started going into the city more often with the girls, who both seemed to enjoy the loud noises, but as 1966 came to a close, and anti-war protests came to a head, she became more and more terrified to leave her little home.

All the same, Carolyn was happy. She was more than happy with her two little girls, who were the closest of friends, and with her husband who now tried to be home every night. He came home in time for supper and played with the girls, laughing at their antics. After supper, they sat together, watching the news. It was usually her favorite time of the day, when Michael would hold her tightly and whisper in her ear about the war, or about President Johnson, or just about how much he loved her. Her life had come together in a marvelous way she would never quite believe, and she couldn't care less about the world going on around her.

Until, of course, her world came crashing down and met the world outside her tiny little home. It was a chilly morning in February, the girls had terrible colds, and Michael had spent all morning complaining about the damn snow. It wasn't a happy morning in any way, and by the time Michael was ready to leave for the store, Carolyn was in no mood for any of Kath's insistence for cookies though her throat burned or for Nancy's temper tantrums. She had stomped upstairs, barely saying a word to Michael as she watched her tiny girls sleep. Nancy lay in her crib, her thumb in her mouth as her dark hair lay close to her head, the sweat matting down the delicate strands. Kath was in the bed, propped up against her pillows as she held her doll tightly. "Mommy."

"I'm here, dear," Carolyn smiled. "You should be sleeping."

"I don't want to sleep," her three year old said firmly.

"Yes, I know," Carolyn sighed, leaning to kiss her warm forehead. "But you will feel much better if you sleep. And I'm sure Daddy will give you cookies if you rest and be a good girl."

"Promise?" Kath's eyes went wide.

"I promise," Carolyn laughed lightly, wrapping the blankets around the little girl as she flopped back against the pillows, burrowing herself deep under the blankets. "Just a little rest, sweetheart."

"Mommy," Kath gasped. "Shhh! I'm sleeping!"

"Of course," Carolyn nodded, watching her daughter's eyes close quickly, her long lashes sweeping her reddened cheeks. She wasn't quite sure how long she sat in their bedroom, just watching her girls sleep before she finally moved to her own bedroom. There were plenty of things she needed to do today. The laundry needed to be done, the living room was in complete disarray, and Michael's father was coming for Sunday dinner. But for now, Carolyn wanted to rest. She needed to breathe for a moment before the rest of her day started. She walked into her room, pausing when she saw Michael sitting on the bed, a piece of paper in his hand. "Michael?" she frowned. "What on earth are you doing here? You need to be at the store."

"I was at the store," Michael nodded slowly, his hand shaking as he held out the paper. "I was at the store."

"You…you weren't fired, were you?"

"No. No. I was just sent home, dear girl," he murmured, his trembling hand still outreached towards her. "I've been called."

"What?" Carolyn frowned, staring at the paper.

"I am to report to the medical board for my medical review. After that, I will be drafted."

"Michael…" she breathed, her eyes wide as she took the slip from his fingers. "No. No, you can't go. You're not going to Vietnam."

"They're calling me, Carolyn. I don't have much of a choice."

"You do. They've been objecting all over the country. They've burnt their draft cards, Michael. They refuse to go."

"I'm not nineteen," Michael laughed harshly. "If my country wants me to serve, I will serve."

"You're not serving. You're not, Michael. You have the store and the girls. How could they possibly expect you to serve? How could they…you're not going."

"I'm serving, Carolyn," Michael whispered, pulling on her hand and bringing her down to the bed. "I'll go to my medical examination, and if all is well, then I'll serve whenever they need me."

"When?" she breathed.

"My medical examination is in a week," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Oh," Carolyn nodded slowly, moving closer to her husband as his trembling hands moved up and down her tense back. They had never paused to believe this would happen. He was older, much older than the boys standing in the city today, threatening to burn their draft cards. This had to be some sort of mistake. They might have confused her husband for the younger Shepherd, the boy who still sometimes looked on eagerly at the soldiers in uniform who attended their final mass before leaving for Vietnam. They might have just confused the two Shepherd boys, and Michael would go and they would laugh him away. They had to laugh him away. Somehow, Carolyn's life had become dependent on the man sitting next to her.

The day of Michael's exam began just as any other day. It was a harsh winter day, spring seemed far off, but Kath and Nancy wanted nothing more than to play outside in the snow. They begged all morning, or truly, Kath begged and Nancy watched her sister with an eager face, giggling delightedly at Kath's sing-song voice. Usually, Michael paid every bit of attention to his daughters during breakfast, feeding Nancy or sneaking Kath a cookie with her pancakes. This morning, however, Michael was silent as he ate, picking mostly at his food, his eyes downcast. Derek had come over the night before, stating the intense jealousy he felt for his brother. It had been the first time Carolyn had ever snapped at her brother-in-law.

After Michael left, Carolyn cleaned the house from top to bottom, trying to keep her eyes on her children and her mind off the fear that kept coursing through her in overwhelming waves of fear and pain. Her husband was getting a medical exam and all she could think about was losing him. She had seen the outcome of men leaving their homes; she heard stories at the market that sent shivers through out her body. Men were coming home in the pine coffins of her parents' youth, their mangled bodies hidden from the view of their loved ones. Just two days earlier, she had had heard the chant that seemed to take over the nation, a chant towards President Johnson. She had repeated it in her head several times, terrified to tell Michael about the violent protests and the chant that asked their president how many boys he would kill that day. She wasn't sure what to say or do, and so she cleaned.

Kath seemed to understand that something was very wrong, and ended up in a corner of the living room, hugging her baby doll close as she asked pitifully for her daddy and a cookie. The scene made Carolyn's sudden drive to clean even stronger as she suddenly imagined her two daughters fatherless and alone. Kath loved her father, she was attached to his hip and Michael was wrapped around Kath's tiny, chubby fingers. Carolyn had absolutely no idea how their family would continue on without Michael. He was their rock, Nancy had barely had the chance to know her father. Once his service was over, if he even came home, Nancy would be nearly two, and Kath would be preparing to enter school. He would miss too much, and their family would fall apart.

Morning bled into afternoon and then finally collapsed into evening and Michael still was not home. Nancy fell asleep soon after supper while Kath struggled to stay awake, her thumb tucked into her small, rosebud lips as she clutched her teddy bear. He had been gone much too long. She couldn't imagine what would be taking so long, unless, of course, something was wrong. Nothing could be wrong; he was Michael and they had a family. He had a family to which to come home. Her heart pounded in her chest and long after she had put the girls down for bed, she paced the foyer, her hands moving through her dark hair.

Finally, the door opened and there he stood, his messy hair windblown, his cheeks red and her breath caught in her throat. "Go into the living room, Derek," her husband's first words since this morning were sharp and she turned. Derek stood behind him, dressed in khaki military garb.

"Derek?" she breathed.

"Hi, Carolyn," Derek smirked. "Pregnant yet?"

"Living room, Derek," Michael ordered his younger brother and the younger man turned and walked into the room, his hat in his hands.

"Michael," Carolyn murmured, walking forward and wrapping her arms tightly around her husband.

"What's this, pretty girl?" he murmured, moving his hands over her back. "You're not crying, are you?"

"No," she shook her head. "What happened? You've been gone so long."

"It turns out," Michael smiled down at her, "I'm a bit too old for Vietnam. It also seems to help that I have you and the girls."

"You're not going?"

"No, pretty girl," he grinned impishly. "I'm staying right here."

"Oh thank God," Carolyn gasped, her arms tightening around him as a fresh wave of tears overcame her. He rocked her gently, carefully, whispering nonsense words until she finally calmed. "What took so long? They couldn't take one look at you and know your age?"

"I was done in fifteen minutes," Michael nodded. "But then my idiot brother was there, enlisting. He wasn't drafted, he volunteered. Father was not happy."

"Of course not. How could anyone be happy about their son going to fight? Michael, they protest every day. The things they say, the things they say are there…"

"I know, Carolyn," he breathed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I invited him to stay until Father can calm down a little. There's nothing we can do now but pray."

"We will pray," she nodded firmly, moving out of his arms. "I'll make a spot for him on the couch."

"There's my brave girl," he grinned. "I'll pop in to see my girls."

"Michael, they're sleeping."

"I know," he nodded and then turned to trudge upstairs, his body slumped. They had been afraid of this. More than the draft, more than his own call for duty, they had been terrified that Derek would enlist for this war. But Michael was right, there was nothing they could do now but pray. She took a deep breath and moved into the living room to see Derek sprawled onto the couch in his pants and a white undershirt, his jacket thrown haphazardly over Michael's chair. She stared at him for a moment, at her brother-in-law who consistently made her laugh, feel a part of the family when his sisters tortured her. He would be leaving soon, and she wanted to believe this was all some horrible dream.

"I can make a bed for you, Derek," she murmured as she walked towards the couch.

"Thanks, Carolyn," he grinned widely. "But I'll just need a blanket and a pillow. I figure it's all I'll have in Vietnam."

"Derek," she sighed, shaking her head. "What would possess you? Haven't you heard the stories?"

"You sound like Father," he sighed, sitting up quickly. "It's Communism, Carolyn. You remember what it was like growing up after the War. Kids diving under the desks because we all thought we'd be blown to smithereens. It's those Communists that want to destroy us. Don't you want something better for the girls? Do you want them to be terrified of the Communists like we were? Jesus, Carolyn, we could hit those fucking Reds hard if we win in Vietnam."

"Derek, thousands of people have died. Thousands. You could die. You could actually die when you get there and all you can think about are the Communists? Do you have any idea how horrible it is there? Colleen is a nurse, she's a navy nurse and she says the injuries are incredible. If you don't end up dead, you could end up an amputee."

"It's worth it," he shrugged carelessly. "Look, Carolyn, my dad fought in the War. He fought and got injured, and the only difference between now and then is the Japs attacked us. But these bastards are attacking us. They're attacking our fucking freedom, and hell if I'm going to sit by and get a job while they plot to tear apart our democracy. My dad thinks I give a shit about heroism. That's not what it is. It's about saving this country from those fucking Commies."

"You're an idiot," Carolyn murmured. "You're an idiot, Derek."

"And hell…doesn't hurt that I could be a hero," Derek laughed, grabbing a book from the coffee table in front of him.

She watched him for a moment, her heart pounding and then she nodded carefully. "The blankets are in the linen closet, just down the hall," she breathed before turning to make her way carefully up the stairs. This had been what had terrified her, what had left Nancy Shepherd so terrified for her son, she had begged him on her death bed not to enlist. He was a boy. A year older than she, but still just a boy who wanted to be known for stopping the spread of Communism. But it wasn't his responsibility; it wasn't supposed to Derek's responsibility to cure the world. Her children's uncle was not supposed to go off and fight in a country that left everyone dead.

Michael was still in the girls' room and she opened the door carefully to see him standing over Kathleen's bed, his hands shaking as he brushed a curl away from her chubby face. Her husband usually stood tall. Usually, he was proud of the life he was living, even when they had barely anything to survive on. But tonight, he was watching his children sleep, his shoulders slumped and defeated before he fell onto his knees and began to cry softly. She watched him for a moment and then took a step forward, falling next to him and grasping his hand. "Carolyn," he breathed her name in a way she had never heard before. "Carolyn."

"It's going to be all right, Michael. It's going to be okay."

"Hmmm…" he breathed, pressing a kiss to her nose. "I can't imagine ever leaving you and the girls. I need you to know that. I will never leave you and the girls." His lips moved down to hers and he kissed her hard before collapsing into her lap and sobbing.

Derek left for basic training two weeks later. He wrote letters daily, always sounding more and more cocky. And then, on a warm morning in May, he came home for two days before being sent to Vietnam. He was quiet, and neither he nor Michael said a word about what the next year would hold. He held Nancy, played with Kathleen, and on the morning of May 10, 1967, he left. There wasn't a parade or a party to send him off. Protesters shouted, "Hey, hey, LBJ, how many boys will you kill today?" and "Hell no, we won't go!" all during their goodbyes to him. Michael hugged his brother tightly, the girls kissed his cheek, and cockily, in his usual way, Derek told Carolyn he would see her in 1968. And then he was gone.

The next morning, Carolyn rushed to the washroom and emptied her stomach for hours. She was pregnant again.

Author's Note: Reviews are like food. Writers depend on them to live.


	5. Best and Worst

**Sorry this took so long. My life was kind of a disaster area for a good long while. But here it is...and the next one should come a lot sooner!**

It was a boy. Carolyn had never been more sure of anything in her life. But now, as she lay in bed on a hot July morning, she was sure the baby inside her was a boy. The nausea was incredible, the exhaustion crippling, and her behavior erratic at best. Michael had somehow found the strength to be patient with her, and his sisters seemed to be pitying her, as they often came to help her, along with her own sisters and mother. Kathleen and Nancy enjoyed spending time with their grandmother and aunts, but Carolyn couldn't stand the fact that her children were kept away from her.

Mother swore the pregnancy being this hard simply meant a boy was on his way, as boys were apparently much harder pregnancies than girls. Carolyn could only vaguely remember her mother's pregnancy with the brother that had died just a few days after being born, and she did remember her mother being constantly ill. Michael's sisters all told her it was harder with a boy, and she'd grow much bigger with a boy than a girl. Carolyn wasn't sure if she believed the old wives' tales, but now that she was lying in bed for the fifth day in the row, hardly able to move, she was starting to think she was most certainly having a boy.

She hadn't told Michael yet. He was different this time, hardly talking about the baby growing within her as he worked constantly, only coming home late in the evening. He was patient with her when he was home, though the second she fell asleep, he was out of bed and pacing their home, often not sleeping at all. Mail to and from Vietnam was slow, and there were times when Michael didn't hear from his brother for a month and feared the worse. The family always feared the worst, especially as death toll numbers were released to them. Everyone was terrified. The war was truly escalating, and as more and more boys came home in pieces, in coffins, more boys were drafted to take their place.

Carolyn wasn't sure what was happening in the world. Years ago, it had all seemed so innocent, so happy. And yet, 1967 had turned into a year of love and hate, protests and calls for amnesty, flower power and the power of the old. It often reminded Carolyn of The Tale of Two Cities and she couldn't help but wonder if this was "the best of times and the worst of times". So many of her friends had joined the so-called hippie movement, and even her younger sisters were enjoying the new freedom that the last half of this decade was bringing. Carolyn wasn't sure what to think about any of it. The movement seemed so naïve, so driven by the belief that love could somehow cure anything. She wasn't quite sure any of them understood that love could not save Derek from the dangers of Vietnam, love could not save the world from the hell that was building in a country so far away, Carolyn was sure she hadn't heard of it before now.

But the movement continued. The hippies marched for peace, and many cities were having race riots that were supposed to be peaceful, but never seemed to be. She just wasn't sure what this would mean for her children, for the baby growing in her belly when nothing seemed the same anymore. It all seemed so different, so completely terrifying, that sometimes, staying in bed did seem like an incredible option.

"Carolyn?" The door opened slowly and Carolyn moved carefully, clutching her stomach as her entire body seemed to pitch forward in a wave of nausea.

"Colleen?" Carolyn breathed, staring at her sister. Colleen was dressed in the white garb of a nurse, her eyes dark behind her glasses. Her sister worked at a hospital in the city, taking care of so many of the boys who were coming home in pieces. She took off her jacket and put it on the bed before crawling in with her. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would come and see my sister," Colleen smiled. It hardly looked like a smile anymore, and Carolyn couldn't help but wonder when her sister had been torn apart. "You look awful."

"I feel awful. This baby is going to kill me."

"Mother says it's a boy," Colleen murmured as she wrapped her arms around her.

"I think so, but don't tell Michael. Is Mother downstairs with the girls?"

"Yeah," her sister breathed. "Carolyn."

"Hmmm?" Carolyn breathed into the pillow, trying desperately to keep her stomach calm.

"I leave for Vietnam tomorrow morning."

"What?" she gasped, sitting up quickly in bed, ignoring for once her rolling stomach and the extreme exhaustion. "What could you possibly do in Vietnam?"

"Jeffrey…Dr. Kellog has been drafted," her older sister whispered. "I joined the Navy services months ago, Carolyn. I thought, perhaps I could take care of the boys here. But Dr. Kellog is right, they need us there. The boys are so young, Carolyn, they're hardly older than Evelyn. And they come home in pieces, shattered pieces and we have to send them home without legs. I saw a man today without legs and only one arm. One arm. What could he possibly do with his life without legs and only one arm?"

"You can't fix any of that in Vietnam, Colleen."

"They need us," Colleen spoke defiantly, though her eyes drooped and her arms failed to tighten. "There aren't enough nurses, and I believe nurses could help. They're desperate for us."

"You're going for Jeffrey."

"Hardly," Colleen laughed harshly. "I love him, Carolyn, but it's unlikely we'll be anywhere near each other. I'm going for the boys who need us. I'm going because no one here wants them to go, no one here is listening to their problems. All you ever hear is that damn chant…they have no idea. They have no idea what they're going through, Carolyn. You have no idea."

"Derek is in Vietnam. Derek is…he's in Vietnam."

"And you have no idea what he is going through. You have none at all. You sit here with Michael in your own little world and pretend you're still a teenager. Your brother-in-law is there in a jungle, surrounded by napalm and grenades and machine guns and you have no idea. Your husband is terrified every day…"

"I know that," Carolyn snapped, rubbing her stomach. "I know my husband is terrified. How can you think I don't understand? Maybe I'm not running off to Vietnam, but women don't belong in Vietnam. They're not drafting women, Colleen. There's a reason for that. Stay home. Where you belong."

"Where I belong?" Colleen raised an eyebrow. "I can't believe you're saying any of this. You used to read all of the feminism books in the dark and now you're saying I belong at home? Why do I belong at home, Carolyn? So I become a pathetic mess of a woman who can't even move forward with the decade?"

"Excuse me?"

"Look around you, Carolyn. Women don't stay home anymore and have a thousand babies. Women are working, they're protesting, they're involved in their communities, in their lives. They march the streets and have sex for pleasure and don't want children. Women are fighting for their right to have control over their bodies, over the right to work and earn money and actually be something other than a lonely, frazzled housewife, barefoot and pregnant."

"There's nothing wrong with being a housewife," Carolyn breathed. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with being a mother, either. You think helping boys in Vietnam will give you purpose, Colleen? Purpose is watching your child take her first steps. Purpose is hearing her first word. Purpose is feeling a child grow inside you. You don't have the right to judge me on that until you've experienced it."

"I do, because it's not at all to which I want to amount," Colleen said harshly. "I want to have a skill, I want to have a purpose other than my children and husband. What will happen to you when your kids grow up? Or what would you do if Michael died?"

"Stop!" Carolyn shouted as she stood. "Stop!"

"You would be lost. Lost and alone and have nothing. If Michael had gone to war instead of Derek…"

"Stop!" Carolyn repeated, her heart pounding as her stomach pitched forward. She tried to keep down the vomit, tried to keep breathing, but her head was swimming and tears were pouring down her cheeks. "I'm tired of this war. I'm tired of hearing of it, and I don't…you're just like Derek, Colleen. You want to be a hero, you want a sense of purpose because you have nothing here, nothing at all. Don't you see what this war is doing? It's tearing this country apart!"

"God, Carolyn, you can't even be anti-war for the right reasons. It's tearing this country apart because we probably shouldn't be there. People want peace, but they also want Communism to go away. But you live in this dream world, a world where the perfect family gets torn down, and it terrifies you, because you're not strong enough to make it on your own. You're not strong enough to build it on your own. You have to depend on Michael and your children for self-worth."

"At least I have something other than broken bodies and death," Carolyn gasped as another wave of nausea moved over her. Her entire body seemed to be swimming, spinning and she faltered slightly, the room spinning around her as her body heaved.

"Girls!" her mother's voice rang throughout t he room, throughout the entire house and Carolyn looked up to see her mother and younger sisters standing in the doorway, Michael behind them.

"Carolyn," her husband breathed as he ran forward. "Lay down. Cara, get your sister a washcloth. Evelyn, I need a bowl or a pot."

"What for?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow and for the first time, Carolyn saw that her little sister was dressed in jeans and some sort of a flowery poncho with fringe, her dark hair long and curly down her back.

"Does it matter what for?" Kathleen Maloney snapped.

"Mother, I'm going to be late."

"And your sister is sick, you can be late for another protest, Evelyn."

"It's peaceful!" Evelyn called over her shoulder. "And I told you, Mom, it's Eve."

Her mother sighed as she turned to look at her girls. Colleen stood in the corner, her hands and face red, while Michael picked Carolyn up and laid her gently on the bed. It was an immediate relief from the spinning room and Carolyn closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into Michael's calloused touch. She could hear the bustle in the room, could hear Cara and Evelyn both coming back in, but she kept her eyes closed, still rubbing her stomach. There were soft whispers and suddenly Michael was in bed next to her, pulling the blankets over her. "Carolyn?"

"Michael…" she whimpered softly.

"Carolyn, just tell me if you're all right. I need to know that you're not in any pain."

"No pain."

"Are you sure?"

The nausea rose again and she buried her head in his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he reciprocated the hold, brushing his lips over her head.

"What on Earth got into you, Colleen?" Kathleen demanded. "She's ill. What could possess you to yell at her?"

"I told her about Vietnam," Colleen's voice was clear and strong, a bluebird stuck in the middle of a vicious storm. "She had to know."

"What about Vietnam?" Michael demanded.

"My daughter leaves tomorrow," Kathleen murmured softly and Carolyn turned to bury her head in her husband's chest. It shook with the force of his gasp and then he was calm again, running his shaking hands over her back. The room fell quiet and he rocked her gently, whispering to her as her mother wiped the back of her neck and her forehead with a wet washcloth. She could hear someone cleaning the floor where she had gotten sick, and for a moment, she let herself fall into a fitful sleep, Michael's strong arms holding her down, keeping her from floating away.

In her state, somewhere between sleep and awake, she felt a kiss on her forehead and heard Colleen say something, and then Michael's own whispered commands. She wanted to reply, wanted to tell Colleen she was wrong, that there was nothing wrong with finding worth in her children and her husband. But instead, she struggled to stay awake until the room grew dark. She opened her eyes slowly and watched her husband's calloused hands on her stomach, where their child was growing. "Michael."

"I'm here, pretty girl."

"You won't leave?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"You promise?"

"Of course, Carolyn," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips and she drifted off to sleep again, safe and warm, and far away from the napalm, bombs, and helicopters in far off Vietnam.


	6. Shortlived Happiness

**Okay, I have to apologize for this taking so long. With school and work and everything else in my 3D life…but this is here. And the next one is already started! Woohoo! Enjoy!**

**October of **1967 marked Michael and Carolyn's fourth anniversary, and as he had every year since their marriage, Michael had come home with treats for the girls, flowers for Carolyn, and a sense of romance that never seemed to dissipate. Carolyn had spent the cool fall day baking a cake with her two young girls. Her stomach was large now, much larger than it had been with the girls. Michael joked they were expecting twins, while everyone else claimed boys made the belly expand more, which simply made Michael even more pleased. Carolyn, of course, never said a word about her feeling that Michael would soon have the son he desperately craved.

Their anniversary was rarely a time for gifts; they simply couldn't afford the expense. That year, however, Michael came home with treats for the girls, flowers for her, and a passionate kiss that made Kath and Nancy giggled happily; but he also came with a tiny jewelry box nestled in his palm. The only jewelry Carolyn wore was the engagement ring he had slipped onto her finger, the golden wedding band, and the cross that had been her grandmother's. But as her fingers danced excitedly over the jewelry box, she couldn't deny the sudden want for more.

"Go ahead, dear girl," he laughed, his eyes sparkling as he washed his hands. "It's for you."

"Mommy got a present!" Kath sang from her spot at the table, Nancy laughing next to her.

"Mama did get a present," Michael grinned in a way that made Carolyn's heart pound. He hadn't smiled like that since Derek had left for Vietnam. They received monthly letters from him, but Carolyn hadn't missed the unmistakable look of terror that passed over her husband's face every time the phone rang.

"Michael," she breathed, "we can't…this is…"

"Our anniversary," Michael nodded. "Open it, Carolyn."

"We can't afford it," she whispered firmly.

"Open it, Carolyn."

"Michael, we can't…"

"Dear God, Carolyn, open the box!"

Carolyn's fingers fumbled against the box for a moment, her free hand falling against her stomach as their son kicked hard, almost punctuating his father's insistence. She slowly unwrapped the ribbon and then opened the box to reveal an incredible diamond necklace. Her breath caught and she looked up quickly at her husband, who was grinning. "What is it, Mama?" Kathleen asked as she stood up in her chair.

"It's…it's a necklace," Carolyn murmured. "Michael."

"Girls, wash up for supper," Michael smiled to his girls. Kathleen immediately jumped down and grabbed Nancy's hand before both girls ran out of the room.

"Michael," Carolyn whispered, "how on Earth…"

"Enough, Carolyn," he shook his head as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Don't worry about how."

"I have to. You've been working so much and with the girls and now this baby, we can't afford this."

"I've been working to buy you that necklace," he explained softly. "You're giving me a son, pretty girl, you deserve beautiful things."

"I love it, I do," she nodded quickly as he draped the necklace around her neck.

"I thought you would."

"I didn't get you anything."

"Carolyn, don't be silly. I have two beautiful girls and a son on the way. You never have to give me anything. I have all I need."

"Michael," she breathed, turning to her husband and kissing him deeply, sighing as the phone interrupted them.

"Damn," Michael cursed under his breath as he reached for the phone. "Shepherd residence. Emma, I was just thinking of you today. Father's birthday is coming and…" Her husband paused and Carolyn rolled her eyes as she moved to take the chicken out of the oven. The baby was kicking inside her, his twists and turns wreaking havoc. She turned to place the chicken on the table, the serving platter nearly falling out of her hands when she heard a strange, strangled gasp. After the gasp, there was a wounded cry, a long plaintive moan that sent shivers up and down her body.

"Michael?" she turned to her husband, surprised to find him on his knees, his body shaking. "Michael!"

"Derek," Michael gasped. "Derek."

Her body froze and she stared at the phone still clutched in his hand before she reached for it. "Emma?"

"Carolyn," her sister-in-law sobbed into the phone.

"What's happened?" Carolyn asked, though she already knew. She could tell by her husband's violent trembling that the worst was here.

"They were just here," Emma breathed. "I came to see Dad and they were on the porch."

"Who, Emma?"

"The chaplain and someone from the army. Derek's…Derek was killed, Carolyn. He was killed!"

"Oh Jesus," Carolyn breathed, turning to her husband before hanging up the phone and bending next to him. "Michael."

"Mommy, Daddy, we're ready!" Kath ran in with Nancy but stopped quickly. "Mama?"

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathed. "Can you take your sister upstairs for just a minute?"

"Mama!" Nancy whimpered, her thumb going to her mouth. "Daddy?"

"Just for a minute, sweethearts," Carolyn whispered as she held onto Michael's trembling shoulder. Kath and Nancy both nodded meekly and then moved into the next room. They were terrified and every motherly instinct in Carolyn Shepherd told her to go after them. But it was the wifely instinct that conquered and she held onto her husband as his body broke.

Michael had always been strong and happy. His father had joked he had the old Irish sense of humor, the Irish brogue. His blue eyes constantly sparkled in good humor and his laugh filled an entire room. His temper, of course, was legendary but it rarely came out. Today, on what was supposed to be a happy day, Carolyn was seeing a whole new side to her husband. His eyes were dark and filled with tears and his usually strong, labor-built body felt fluid in her arms. "Dear Jesus," he gasped in a desperate cry to his Father. "Oh dear Jesus."

"Michael," she breathed softly, rocking him as she often rocked their children. "Michael, darling, oh darling." It was all she could think of to say as her own tears fell into his mess of dark curls. The Shepherd family had lost so much and Derek's death seemed to be the blow that would send Michael over the edge. She knew what he was imagining, knew the stories of horrific deaths were becoming dark images involving his rambunctious baby brother.

There was nothing, of course, she could say to him. They had all warned Derek against this but while Michael wanted no credit for his protective streak, Derek had needed to go down in glory. "Damn it!" Michael cursed into her blouse. "Damn him!"

"No, Michael, no. He was…he was just a boy. Just a boy."

"A dead boy." The temper rose now, his eyes flashing as his body stiffened into hard wood. "What good is a dead boy?"

"He's your brother, Michael. He's your children's uncle."

"A fine uncle he'll be," Michael snorted. "What good is a dead uncle to our children?"

She had nothing to say, no way at all to calm him. It wasn't usually her job. At twenty-two years of age, she had never had to comfort a crying man and frankly, it made her a little uncomfortable. Michael was years older than she, he was the strong spouse in their marriage. When Kathleen had come down with the measles, Michael had stayed up all night laughing and joking with their oldest while Carolyn had wept in their bedroom. He was impossibly strong and strong-willed and she was…she was not weak, but in no way strong enough to hold his weeping, angry body and calm him.

"Sonofabitch," he cursed wildly. "Sonofabitch."

"Hush, Michael," she breathed, her lips hovering over his forehead. "It's all right. It will be fine."

"We told the damn fool not to enlist. We knew he'd get himself killed, knew he'd throw himself to his death for his damned pride."

"Don't, Michael," she pled. "Your brother…don't hurt him now." It was the wrong thing to say and her husband veered off the floor, cursing in a harsh stream. She shrunk back against the wall, her hands wrapped protectively over her distended abdomen where their child was kicking. "Hush, baby," she whispered though son apparently took after father and began a quick barrage of bruising kicks.

"Is supper ready?" Michael hissed.

"Of course," she whispered. "But, Michael…"

"Girls!" her husband barked. "Supper!"

"Michael, please," she sighed. "Perhaps…your father and sisters…"

"God damn it, Carolyn! " he roared just as the girls ran in. "Must you question my every move? I bought you a damned necklace, be happy with it! I say we're going to eat our anniversary dinner and that is what we will do? Now sit down!"

"Daddy," Kath whimpered and Michael turned to stare at their two girls.

"Oh angels," he breathed quietly as he fell to his knees in front of him. "My two darling angels." His arms wrapped quickly around them and he pulled them into his chest, tears pouring down his cheeks. Kath and Nancy looked positively terrified but they wrapped their chubby arms obediently around their father as he sobbed. Carolyn watched him from her spot against the wall, willing something to happen, for anything to happen. Her tiny little girls began to cry softly as well, though they clearly had no idea why and Michael pulled them closer, smothering them with his strong arms. Her own hands found the wall behind her and she pulled herself up, begging the baby to stop moving within her, at least long enough for her to move out of the room. "Carolyn?" Michael looked up carefully at her.

"I'm not feeling well," Carolyn murmured. '"I'm going to bed."

"Carolyn…"

"Girls, eat all of your vegetables for Daddy," Carolyn breathed as she turned out of the kitchen, her body trembling. Michael was rarely angry with her, he just never seemed to become furious. She had done enough for him to be angry, but his harsh words had terrified her and she moved up the stairs slowly, gripping onto the banister with one hand, her new necklace with the other. He was mourning, his brother was dead, but Carolyn couldn't help but feel anger towards her husband and dead brother-in-law. It was their anniversary, a happy day. They had all been in such a good mood and now Carolyn was falling into bed, her arm wrapped tenderly around her belly.

The tears came hard and fast and she muffled them into the pillow, just in case the girls were to hear. They didn't need to know that their world was about to become so much harder now, and they had already seen Daddy cry for today. She just needed to muffle the cries and pretend for a moment she was waiting to get out of bed the morning of her anniversary. This morning had been so promising, the way Michael's hands had moved over her body, whispering how much he loved her. They had been married for four years, and they had been so happy. Despite everything, they were happy. She had never been able to imagine that people in this decade could find a way to stay happy. And now, it was catching up with her marriage.

She grabbed her nightgown and slipped it over her head, sighing as the cool cotton draped over her abdomen. Her son still kicked with all the force his tiny, undeveloped body could muster and she closed her eyes as she fell back against the bed again. It was a hard pregnancy, such a hard pregnancy, and she missed her husband. She missed her husband and her family. She missed the life she had had, when she was blissfully ignorant of everything going on around her. Carolyn hated the life this was quickly becoming. She hated that her children would have to attend their first funerals, dressed in little black jackets, though she remembered the Kennedy children had been in blue, and they had been absolutely beautiful. She wasn't ready for her children to lose their innocence and if she were to be honest with herself, she wasn't quite ready to lose her own innocence either.

"Carolyn?" She looked up carefully at her husband as he stood in their doorway, the light from the hall shining behind him like a halo, as if he were holy. His body was defeated, but somehow, he looked a vision. Her husband was the sun in her life, and yet, she felt as if she were completely in the dark, instead of in his light. She turned from him, resting her hand over her child's temporary growing place, and tried to breathe. "Carolyn, dear girl," he whispered as the door shut quietly behind him and the bed sunk underneath his weight. "At least tell me you and the baby are well."

"Hmmm," she nodded, though she felt incredibly nauseous.

"Only you would consider that an answer," he laughed softly as he wrapped an arm over her. "He's busy tonight. I don't see how we could possibly have anything but a boy in there."

"Michael…"

"You think I'm avoiding my brother's death," he whispered, his fingers dancing over their son's hard kicks. "You think I will avoid it, that I should face it."

"I really don't feel well, Michael."

"Should I call Dr. Marshall?"

"No," she groaned.

"Carolyn," he sighed and then pushed the sleeve of her nightgown down to reveal her shoulder. His lips pressed against the exposed skin and he suddenly mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "The way I spoke to you downstairs…I love you so much, Carolyn Shepherd. You're my wife, the mother of my children, my lover, my best friend…and I would never speak to you like that. I just can't believe he's dead. He's my brother, my baby brother, and he's gone. The fucking bastards killed him."

"Michael!"

"Sorry," Michael whimpered as he pressed into her body. "Jesus, Carolyn, my brother…and I know he probably died trying to be a god damn hero, but I didn't need him to be a hero. I didn't want him to be a hero, Carolyn, I wanted him to come home. I wanted him to play ball with my son, to dance with the girls. But he needed to be a hero, he needed to go down in a flame of glory and pride. And damn it all, Carolyn, I hate him for it." He took a deep breath and then turned her face to his. "But I hate him most for ruining my anniversary. I hate him for making me…my god, Carolyn…"

"It's all right," she whispered as tears wet his cheeks again. "It will be all right. We'll…"

"No," he breathed as he shook his head and leaned forward to kiss her. "Mrs. Franklin next door took the girls. I explained…she understands it's a family emergency and…I can't, Carolyn. I can't be with my girls tonight. I need…my brother is dead. He is dead and all I want is my wife. I need you, Carolyn." It was a soft, quiet plea, the sort of plea Carolyn had never heard before and would never hear again. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as he began to cry, his brother's name falling from his lips in a desperate cry as their baby kicked between them.

"Happy anniversary," she breathed into his dark curls.

"Happy anniversary," he echoed, hiccupping as his hand cupped her swollen stomach, where the little baby who suddenly had a very real name was resting.


End file.
